BY GEORGE KAYE

NEW SUPER-STARS DOMINATE 1975 NEW YORK MUSCLE SHOW!

Last month - Gene Mozee gave a pose-by-pose description of the contest - This month, spectacular Jimmy Caruso photos and hard-hitting commentary by one of our East Coast Editors allows you to relive all of the fascinating action!

Fun City's muscle zealots are spoiled rotten, and being a member in good standing, I can drink to that. Decades of the world's greatest physiques have been delivered to our doorstep with the regularity of the NY Times. All we do in return is demand bigger and better shows with more muscle, more stars, and more excitement.

Thusly, Tom Minichiello and Peter Vita the co-producers of this year's fall spectacular were informed the IFBB was awarding South Africa with the Mr. Universe / Mr. Olympia jewel, and Los Angeles with the AABA Mr. Americas sparkler. Tom and Pete were in the pickle jar now with the riddle to solve of how to stage a Big Apple Big Show with a Brand X title and a probable mixed bag of flakey contenders vying for the crown. I'll let you in on a quick secret. The riddle was halfway solved when a band of this hemisphere's best built amateur bodybuilders sent in entry forms and the ranks included two unbelievable newcomers; Danny Padilla and Robin Robinson.

The second part of the mini-riddle came together when in the month of April, AABA Sages developed a new title - Mr. USA - to be the alter ego of Mr. Americas. In any given year the east is to have one show and the west the other. Nashing fangs of hungry IFBB heroes starved for trophies began salivating in preparation for the freshly minted event.

New York also got Mr. World, the backup gala to Mr. Universe for Western Hemisphere bodybuilders who aren't up to a transoceanic voyage around Cape Horn. This popular contest generally draws well in both contestants and fans. Tom and Pete began to find the pickle vinegar easier to swallow now, especially when Joe Weider decided to pay the freight for ten more monsters to be winged in from distant parts of the Big 50, to compete in both contests.

Miss Americana - the cutesy girlie show was also added, and it has a rightful place on an agenda that sometimes gets a little heavy with "lat spreads". But the planners still needed The Certified Blockbuster, one that could guarantee a whammo reaction at the turnstiles.

While brainstorming for fresh ideas, someone suggested taking the time to head up into the Northwest and trying to sling a trusty lariat around Big Foot's hairy neck and drag him east. But Tom and Pete protested that they already had a promise from Lou Ferrigno to appear, and he's probably bigger than Big Foot and a tolerable mite tamer. However, there was no assurance from Lou's camp that he'd ben in blue-chip shape. He was obviously pointing for the Mr. Olympia title and in no mind to peak for an exhibition, even if it was in his own backyard. An Arnold - Louie posedown became a thought to consider, but it had a fat chance. The Oak was down to a lean 215 for his movie thingie, and this called for his hibernation to Santa Monica to reconstitutionalize himself.

Franco Columbu was an invitee, and though the faithful never tire of the Sardinian, he had posed here within the recent year. The Dynamite Attraction that could rivet thousands of fans britches to seat cushions wasn't on the marquee yet.

The think tanks were refilled, and those involved began recollecting the
all-time NY crowd pleasers. Arnold, Sergio - hmmm. Reaching back further:
Wayne, no . . . Poole, no . . . but what about SCOTT, Larry Scott ??? Back in
1962-1966, the world record holder in creating joyous pandemonium, demolishing
box office records, and embalming all opposition, was the classy Larry. Even
if he were to appear in a Velour sweater, he would drive veteran fans bananas
and freak out the kids. Imagine squinting through an Instamatic and seeing the
Reincarnation of Somebody greater than Peter Proud. The Myth - the Legend - all
could be rekindled, and the thought almost was hallucinatory. Too bad nobody
had heard from Scott in ages. He was rumored to weigh in at about Lafitte
Pincay's jockey weight.

Contact was finally established in July, and Joe Weider told Larry by phone,
"Money is no object, they really want you. How do you look?"

"Great," Larry
responded. "I've been training tough, almost as though I knew this offer was
ordained. I'll see you in September."

That's how he was summoned, but whether he
was really in condition could only be answered the night of the contest.
Nevertheless, "The Name" was now on the billboards, and the countdown toward
Saturday, the 27th of September was resumed, and for the first time the
promoters began to emote with a tinge of cautious optimism.

By seven on the Big Nite, at least one question was at last answered No Red
Ink on the gigantic production. A frenzied SRO herd continued to shoehorn its
way into the Garden's Felt Forum. On that balmy evening, everything was roses
along Eighth Avenue. There were no visible signs of Fun City's impending
collapse. No one could spot any of the thousands of fired municipal employees.
Tons of rubbish had yet to be scraped from the cement, and the Mets and Yankees
were finishing garbage seasons. However inside the warm auditorium, super vibes
permeated the confines, and the multitudes on hand to view the IFBB men were in
a buoyant and festive mood.

IFBB President Ben Weider kicked off the fourteenth annual NY muscleorama
amidst thunderous applause. His short speech was well received by the audience,
and we became enlightened on the subject of the far reaching goals of the
federation. The most important point made was concerning the plans to relax
efforts towards participation in the Olympic Games in favor of helping to
organize the new "World Games." They would be an alternative olympiad held
quadrienally for the important amateur sports neglected by the International
Olympic Committee. Supported by a ten million dollar contribution from the host
country (the Philippines), the first World Games will begin in August '77, and
IFBB style bodybuilding will playa dramatic role.

KILLA PADILLA PRODUCES A MR. USA THRILLA

This year the AABA instituted procedural changes in their sincere attempts
to arrive at fairer judging, keener competition and a more equitable way of
dispensing awards. Best body part subdivision judging was scotched, leaving
more money to be spent on trophies for each Height Class, and for the first
time, fourth and fifth place finishers received chromed statuary. Considering
the past when the first two or three best builds usually gobbled up all the
body part accessories, this is a decent and needed innovation.

The pre-judging policy of having all height-class entrants pose side-by-side
for comparisons and judgment re-evaluation was extended into the evening's
competition. The audience now had a chance to form its own opinion on what was
happening overall before the solo posing began.

As the group posedowns for the Mr. USA flexed along to the cadence of
countless flashbulbs popping, even untrained eyes could determine that Danny
Padilla, Roger Callard and Denny Gable were the standouts in their respective
divisions. Spectators as well as the competing phalanx of muscle culturists
were stunned by the magnificent proportions of Padilla. He is a new and
devastating force in heavy-duty bodybuilding. Under his white as porcelain
skin, an ungodly amount of muscle danced and wove, and the pallid covering
failed to detract from his awesome display of striation and fibrous muscle
density visible ever in the far reaches of the pavilion. Danny, the Short
Man's Class victor swept to an overall conquest in the Mr. USA. This is an
uncommon AABA occurrence, and it gives credence to his incredible physique. He's
5'3" and 171 pounds, and it took him ten months of ferocious and diligent
training to get in shape for the contest, and it showed. With the precision of
a Mafia mechanic, he scattered the opposition with his powder keg muscle
explosion. Danny hails from Rochester, New York.

A rumble of healthy dissent floated up from the seats at awards time.
Callard and Gable had lots of support, but in this opinion, the two may have
lost because they overworked the finishing touches while overlooking the basics.
Their blemish free good looks, Moroccan Leather tans, trimmed mustaches and
stylish locks added to the lustre, but the swaying factor to the judges had to
be Padilla's enormity.

Franco Columbu was up next and really made a show of it doing his strongman
shtick. Thick metal rods were bent; hot water bottles blown up like toy
balloons, and he generally astounded everyone with his strengthmanship. He
followed this with ten minutes on the dais and almost made people forget Arnold
was out to lunch. It's hard to explain how only sixty-three inches of compacted
muscle appears like the next ten best built guys put together. The enigmatic
and confusing Bermuda Triangle is as mysterious to figure out how it got that
way, as it is to figure out how Franco got all that muscle. In fact, with his
lats flexed, he even looks like the Bermuda Triangle.

MISS AMERICANA

Another wrinkle not seen in previous formats had the Miss Americana sweeties
pirouetting on the dais after every four or so musclemen, and the dolls dazzled
us with shapely and delicate fleshy brilliance barely concealed by the scantest
of bikinis. Noting that a pair of boobs sells better than a double biceps shot
when advertising in the sex-oriented Daily News, Tom Minichiello with the
patience and finess of the Maitre-d' at Maxim's, combed the local area, Canada
and Puerto Rico for a gourmet's selection of beauty contestants for the girlie
pageant. His menu was a definite success, and a lovely, leggy apparition, APRIL
NICOTRA, stopped the show. She became only the second repeat winner since the
inception in 1962 of this spectacle. After her win last year, her
then-boy-friend roasted your reporter for the big ink given Kelly Evarts.
Therefore, this year I've put April's name in caps to atone for the garbled
mess in the '74 report. Besides her being decorative, she is also charming and
devinely sweet, and April's victory was certainly deserved. Runners-up, Joann
Rougeau and Nitza Maldanado still fascinate my memory with their voluptuous
radiance.

Rosemary Hradek, a professional model, copped Miss Shapely, and seemed
genuinely surprised to garner her trophy. A few weeks earlier she had finished
out of the money at the WBBG Miss Body Beautiful, but was informed days later
that a recheck indicated she had won, and prizes, cash and the title would be
forthcoming. By early October nothing had arrived but grief, aggravation and
confusion. In addition to those irritants, she was threatened with a law suit by
the bogus winner (?) if Rosemary used the title for any reason. She was also
embarrassed on TV by the uncertainty of whether the title actually belonged to
her. Confiding her thoughts with me, she believes that the WBBG contest judges
are playing jerkoff games at her expense. Such are one's delicate fortunes in
the good ol' WBBG.

THE PAST AND THE FUTURE OF BODYBUILDING IN A FLASH

Rumor's of Lou Ferrigno's exhibition being laughable because of him being
out of shape, injured or nonplused by Arnold's no-show quickly evaporated. Lou
was in 110% of Mr. Olympia winning condition. Displaying more "muscle maturity"
than last year, the giant two-time Mr. Universe depressed the hell out of any
competitors thinking they can be Mr. Olympia before 1990. Louie's so far ahead
of the pack that like the 'Oak' before him, Ferrigno should be able to hold the
title until it gets boring. This nite it was quite obvious that even with
22¾" arms and a 59" chest, his frame can handle more beef. One world-class
muscleman who'd probably be hidden by a monstrous Ferrigno thigh, said in
exasperation, "Posing against him is like trying to bag a Cape buffalo with a
cap pistol."

After Lou's awesome flaunting of brawniness, The Great Scott made his long
awaited return to muscledom's limelight. Idolatrous worshippers shrieked their
lungs out the instant Larry made his entrance. From there, his perfection at
executing poses of herculean splendour and proportion began to weave a
fascinating spell. The routine was embellished by his uncanny gift of gauging
the accelerating throbbing of an audience's pulse, and the enraptured masses
responded with a thunderous cauldron of applause and cheers. Larry's control
over the Big Apple muscle fans taints of mesmerism. Who can blame us
Gothamites; his professional stage manner remains best-in-the-business.

Everyone should know that 'Mr. Everything' retired nearly a decade ago, and
at his present weight of 183, he isn't quite as spectacular as he once was,
(weighing 30 less), but he still has more muscle than is legal, and could pull
the ego out from under all but a pocketful of the present greats.

No one expected the absorbing interlude that followed. Scott delivered an
inspirational and humble speech in which the oratory encouraged and inspired
everyone. Praise and thanks were heaped on the audience for their interest in
him, and with poignant sincerity, he also thanked those most instrumental in
aiding him in a long and fantasmal career. Singling Joe Weider out for special
mention was a fitting touch of sincerity by Larry. In a nutshell, Larry said,
"Joe's help was indispensable to my success. Besides him being the divine force
behind the sport of Bodybuilding, he is the Master Trainer. This great man is
one of my revered friends." The boss was in attendance, and all of his attempts
at keeping the tears back, failed. A lifetime of devotion to the sport certainly
has strong sentimental and emotional attachments engrained in our mentor, as
well as the other attributes necessary to be on top.

For the rest of us, this had to be an all-time great moment in muscle show
experiences. The promoters have every reason in the world to pat themselves on
the 'delts' for the master-thought in bringing Larry Scott out of retirement.

NO LETDOWN AS THE WORLD TURNS

Any thoughts of the Scott/Ferrigno duo having finally climaxed the evening's
excitement had to be as ill founded as a "two-headed triceps." The sizzling
whirl of the Mr. World competition was next on the dockette, and the audience
became hyped up visually by some more of North America's finest, splayed
shoulder to shoulder across the stage.

New levels of hysteria were reached when the gasping Garden-tators zeroed
eyesights on the flashy ebony sensation, Robby Robinson. Immediate comparitives
became shouted and whispered back and forth, and Oliva was the flattered
individual when some bantered Robby's name about as 'a new Sergio.' Envision
this package: 5'7" and 210 pounds; a waspy waist; gargantuan arms and shoulders;
and the muscularity and vascularity only seen on a Van den Steen or a Columbu.
Robinson has to be the most formidable discovery since Lou Ferrigno back in
1972. More than likely he'll be Lou's serious challenger after Arnold's
retirement. Although Dale Adrian defeated Robby in the recent AAU Mr. A contest,
I'd like to lease the scoreboard as a fireworks concession the next time they
posedown against each other.

This was Robinson's first Northeastern appearance, and with stoic detachment
he watched an audience become-unglued-raving-bananaiacs over him. This is only
natural, because they only knew of him via the photos in Muscle Builder
magazine. Nonetheless, his astounding victory, though extremely popular, wasn't
exactly a waltz through the park. Challenges from muscledom's Most Muscular Nut,
Ed Giuliani, and Darcy Beccles (the cousin of the fabulous Albert Beccles) had
the judges working overtime. Nabbing a trophy In this event was as difficult as
nailing jello to the wall. Kent Kuehn and John Isaacs the renowned Santa Monica
blasters, could do no better than third and fourth in their divisions.

A VETERAN FAN SUMS IT UP

Danny Padilla and Robby Robinson represent an improved generation of
AABA/IFBB athletes and Weider superstars. They're living proof of the soaring
excellence and quality developing in these organizations which are becoming the
proving grounds for future greats. Gable, Callard, Kuehn and Dupre all were
recent conquerors in important physique confrontations, but however impressive
they were, this time out, new talents made it tough for them. The competitive
climate is heating up, and today's hotshot can be displaced by an ambitious
newcomer with a hotter training hand.

Let's face it; there's a lot of new blood in the game now. Superior training
and nutritional innovations as espoused by Joe Weider and this magazine make it
possible for interested individuals to build bodies that in the past were only
dreamed of, but now can be a vibrant reality. The possibilities are enormous,
and some change is evolving at this very moment. Unfamiliar names are
tenaciously aspiring to find a niche on the conscious mind of the collective body
which selects and acknowledges a certain few as the accepted superstars of this
era. Perhaps shortly, a few new names will be added, and maybe others deleted.
It is an interesting mind game, now isn't it?